‘If you want one. Mr Mayhood’s due another cup by now.’

‘I thought as much.’

‘Bring in the Carnation too. I’ll have a splash in mine.’

‘OK.’

She faced the window, checking on the weather. ‘Seems the rain is holding off. It bodes well for tomorrow. They’re sending us the mixer bright and early.’

‘That’s good. I’ll be ready. What about the old man? Any word?’

She took a stride towards him. The tendons of her neck were edged in daylight, long and tapering below the skin, as firm as tree roots. He could make a drawing of them some day. An entire building. What a fool he must’ve seemed to her, in turn. A little boy dressed up in adult clothes, his hair all shined and parted.

She lowered her voice to say, ‘Hollis has abandoned ship – I think that’s clear to everyone by now. But we won’t replace him till we’re sure he doesn’t want the job back. And we think he might be down in Devon with his brother. We’re still trying for an address.’

‘He doesn’t want the job back. If he did, he would’ve stuck about.’

‘Well, this is meant to be a place for second chances, isn’t it? My husband won’t give up on people easily.’

He couldn’t argue with this point and he suspected that she knew it. ‘I suppose that’s how it’s got to be, then. Mr Mayhood knows what’s best.’

She cast her eyes across the room. ‘Either way, it means we’ll need to dig out our potatoes by ourselves. The carrots can be left all winter, but we ought to put a mulch on them in case the cellar can’t be finished. Probably this weekend, he’s been saying. I hope you two are ready for some backache.’

‘You can always bring me down a cushion for my chair,’ he said, and smiled.

She thinned her eyes. ‘I didn’t do that for his benefit, you know.’ Her hands went to her hips. She sighed and shook her head at him. ‘Next time, I can let him grumble on at you instead about his army days. Carrying the mortars and what have you.’

‘Did you know a two-inch mortar weighs ten pounds?’

‘Really, you don’t say.’ She giggled. ‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it.’

He loved to make her laugh. Just knowing he was liable for something that amused her – not by accident, or as the punchline to his sister’s smart remarks, but as the maker of a thought, a phrase – gave him more confidence, belief that in another time and place, another life …

‘Yes, absolutely – only if you can. I wouldn’t want to put you in a spot, Fred …’ Mr Mayhood’s voice cut through the quiet of the room. ‘I’d be so grateful …’ He was winding up his conversation, an elbow on the wing chair with the phone against his ear. He was saying, ‘Possibly. What time? … The one in the West End? … Yes, fine. Count us in. If something changes … I was saying, if something changes, phone again … We’ll find somewhere, don’t worry … All right, Fred. We’ll be there. Thanks again. Ta-ra for now …’ And then he planted the receiver down and stared at it a moment. He stood up and went to shut the door. ‘Who left this hanging open?’